Eph's Pond
by Vplasgirl
Summary: Grissom leaves for Williams College, telling Sara that a break would do them both some good. GSR.
1. Chapter 1

**Eph's Pond**

**PART ONE**

_You don't judge the people you love. You love them. Period._

"_Do you love me?"_

"_I don't know."_

The worst possible answer Grissom could have given Sara was 'no'. This was the second worst, which meant that her heart hadn't completely shattered. Yet. But the pain in her chest was near unbearable anyway.

Sara hadn't jumped into a romance with Grissom with her eyes closed. Whatever had finally brought him to her a year ago remained a mystery. They'd never done the post-mortem on their relationship leading up to the moment they became involved, the way old friends, or in their case, old colleagues, tended to do. _'Remember when you tied me up with duct tape? You were so playful and sweet and sexy, and the way you were looking at me! made me want to pull you into that truck and have my way with you.'_ No. They had never lain into each other's arms and gone down memory lane together. But they had shared some of their hopes and dreams, and information about their past. They had discovered each other's bodies, learned each other's pleasure points, and spent entire evenings talking, sometimes about their work, sometimes about their family, sometimes about a movie or a play, or a controversial book. They had learned each other's likes and dislikes, and supported each other through tough cases. They had even mixed their laundry, and shared their toothpaste and soap.

And for the past six months, they had shared a bed every single day.

During that time, Sara had come to know Grissom well enough to realize that he had never completely opened up to her.

Nor had she to him.

They had never discussed the future, or what they expected from each other, but she had been sensing for weeks now that a discussion was imminent, so when he called yesterday suggesting that she go home because he was meeting Brass for drinks and then wanted an early night, she knew that their relationship was about to change.

For six months Grissom had been the one pursuing her, making plans, ensuring they'd end each day together. They spent most of their time at his townhouse, but occasionally, when she needed to be home for some mundane chore, such as cleaning her apartment or doing laundry, he came to her. He brought her dinner and bought her jewelry, trinkets mostly, but things he knew she'd like, always, it seemed, thinking about ways to please her. He played seduction like a maestro, as he did most everything else in his life. And she followed his lead, giving as much as she received, but never more.

Recently, he started spending more time at the office, often not coming home until she was asleep. Their relationship was changing, but the changes were subtle, and normal, she thought. She hadn't expected the first rush of excitement to last indefinitely. And, truth be told, a truth she had forbidden herself to dwell on, she hadn't expected him to last this long.

His phone call yesterday brought that truth to the forefront, and she made herself ask what was going on.

After a long silence during which she held her breath, he replied, "I don't want to get into it now, but we should talk. Would you come by in the morning?"

And within minutes of her arrival at his townhouse, she knew her instincts had been on the mark. He greeted her—not coldly exactly, more…uncomfortably. She kissed him as she always did, but his response was lukewarm at best and he quickly disengaged from her. She had barely crossed the threshold into his living room when he made his stunning announcement.

"I'm going away for a while."

"Away? Where? Why?"

"To clear my head."

"Is this about the miniature killer case? I know it's been getting to you."

He gave her a tentative nod, and then went to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water. He kept his back to her as he slowly twisted off the cap and took a long swallow. After recapping it, he laid it on the counter and sighed. "Partly."

"The other part being us?"

Slowly he turned to face her, and when he did, she had her answer in his eyes. "A break might do us both some good," he said softly.

There it was, the moment playing out very much as she had anticipated it. She hadn't known when it would come, only that some day Grissom would realize he had made a huge mistake and end it with her.

"Okay," she returned, keeping her voice steady, though inside, she was anything but. "This is sudden. What's going on, Gil?"

He lifted a shoulder in a shrug and came around the breakfast bar to her. "I just need a break, Sara. Is that so difficult to understand? I've been doing this all my life and instead of it getting easier, it's getting harder."

"But it's not only about the job."

"I don't know."

"Do you love me?" Sara didn't draw a breath before asking the one question she had hoped never having to ask. Yet her lungs felt full, the air trapped in them. They had never voiced their feelings for each other, but until recently she hadn't had a reason to believe Grissom wasn't as crazy about her as she was about him.

His eyes bore into hers for an interminable moment. That question shouldn't take this long to answer. Finally, he said, "I don't know."

A clump of emotions burned in Sara's throat. It was all she could do to hold back tears, though holding back made her chest ache unbearably.

It was over.

This was the moment she had been expecting, yet dreading.

"I don't even know what it's supposed to feel like," Grissom suddenly spit out making her flinch. "Forgive me if this is not what you want to hear, Sara. It wasn't my intention to... I'm not sure what my intentions were but I know that I can't—" He threw his arms up and turned away from her, raking his hands through his hair before spinning to face her again. "I can't do this. I wasn't cut out to be with someone every minute of every day. I need space to breathe."

"Okay."

He gave her a stunned look. "Okay?"

She managed a small smile, but as much as she tried, and as much as she thought it important to hide how utterly devastated she felt, she couldn't sustain it. Shrugging, she said, "I'm surprised you lasted this long."

"You knew it would come to this?"

"I suspected."

"Then why—" He shook his head, and if her heart hadn't been hurting so much, the bewildered look in his eyes might have been amusing.

But this was no laughing matter. This man she adored with every breath in her body, and with whom she had dreamed of spending the rest of her life, was telling her that he didn't feel that way about her. And she had promised herself that when this moment came, she would take it on the chin like a big girl.

"Why did I get involved with you?" His nod was barely discernable. She debated whether to tell him, and then decided that whatever decisions he made for his future, he should come at them with all the facts. "Because I love you. I always have."

"Sara—" he choked out, his eyes suddenly flooding with emotion, and he took a step toward her, but she stopped him with a warding hand.

"Don't. It's okay. Really." It wasn't, so she made herself look away, at her books laying around his living room, the bottle of nail polish she had left on his coffee table yesterday, her favorite sweatshirt draped over the arm of a wingchair he never used and which didn't go with the rest of his furniture, but was his mother's favorite when she visited. Her shampoo, conditioner, and robe were in his bathroom. A couple of his dresser drawers were filled with her clothes. She hadn't moved in, officially, but over time things were conveniently left behind.

She hoped the duffle bag she kept in his front hall closet would fit them all.

Sara drew a deep, soothing breath. "I'll get my things," she said, and then finding a real smile amid her heartbreak, added, "I'll make it quick."

Gil took another step forward. "You don't have to do this now."

"Yes. I do."

She retrieved the duffle bag from his hall closet and started in the living room, packed her books before heading down the hall to the bedroom. He didn't immediately follow, but minutes later she sensed him at the door as she emptied dresser drawers of her things. She looked up. "My white shirt is in your laundry. Would you mind getting it for me?"

He hesitated, looking as though he wanted to say something, but then he left the room without a word. When he returned, she was in the master bathroom stuffing her toiletries in what little space was left in the bag. She smiled her thanks as he handed her the shirt, and then quickly shoved it into a side pocket. Zipping up the bag, she rose from her crouched position and glanced at him. "That's it."

Grissom stepped back to let her out of the bathroom, then followed her out to the living room. Sara couldn't decide whether his silence was irritating or a relief. A part of her wanted him to tell her this was a big mistake, yet another just wanted to escape, to lick her wounds in private.

She quickly removed his house key from her key chain and set it on the hall table. Only then did she allow herself to look at him. He was standing in the middle of his living room, his arms folded tightly over his chest, a thumb nail scratching nervously at the shoulder seam of the blue Oxford shirt he was wearing, and he was looking back at her with such sorrow in his eyes that it took everything in her not to fling herself into his arms and beg him to give them a chance.

But pride, and the inevitability of their parting, if not today, then at some other time in the future, made her reach for the door knob instead.

"I'll call you," she heard him say and she swiftly shook her head.

"Please don't. I can't do this halfway anymore, Gris." She stepped out, and then stopped. Looking back at him, she said, "I don't want to be with you every minute of every day either, you know. That's not what love is about."

And with one last look at him, Sara quietly closed the door behind her. "Goodbye, Grissom," she whispered, and only then did it occur to her that he hadn't told her where he was going.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful reviews. At the urging of readers who begged me to fix this quick, here's part two of the story. The conclusion will come in a few days. Thanks, as always, to Kim for her unwavering support and wonderful beta services.**

**Eph's Pond**

**PART TWO**

Daylight had long turned to darkness by the time Gil left the Science Center at the end of his second week at Williams College. The crisp January air stung his cheeks and he huddled deeper into his new parka as he started north on Hoxsey toward Main and the Williams Inn. The streets were almost deserted, the night's chill having driven everyone indoors. But Gil walked slowly, his eyes turned up to the starry sky, then to the strings of Christmas lights still adorning the trees along the sidewalks.

He liked Williamstown, its rural quality of life, the scenic beauty that surrounded it. And he would gladly make it his home if—

He inhaled sharply as an overwhelming wave of loneliness swept through him. It was bitterly cold, yet despite the warmth of the roaring fire that would be greeting him in the lobby at the inn, Gil was purposely delaying his arrival because he couldn't bear the thought of coming home to an empty room.

There was so much he needed to tell Sara, about Eph's Pond, the school, his class, and the girl that reminded him so much of her that even in his classroom she was constantly on his mind. The girl's name was Amy—a fact he'd been chided into remembering after a few slip-ups—but name aside, everything about her, her long limbs and thick brown hair, the keen, intelligent eyes which sparkled with undisguised interest, and her beautiful, quick smile, kept provoking memories of Sara at Berkeley almost a decade ago.

Gil drew in another breath, this one meant to soothe the ache in his chest, but instead, the icy air burned his lungs. He had been teetering on the edge of burnout a few weeks ago. It was so unlike him not to be in control of every aspect of his life, that he hadn't immediately understood what was happening. He had been bone tired; physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted; his job, which had always been at the center of his life suddenly felt like drudgery. And his undefined relationship with Sara had added to his stress and discontent.

He should have tried to understand what was happening to him instead of panicking the way he had and hurting her. But watching her leave, removing all trace of herself from his home item by item, had hurt him just as much. He couldn't have said for certain then what he wanted, couldn't even express how he felt because that, too, had seemed overwhelming, but he knew in his heart that her leaving for ever wasn't it. She had closed the door on their relationship with such finality, and in retrospect, he couldn't blame her. They had been doing it halfway.

Being away from Las Vegas, the job, and doing something that excited him again, had been rejuvenating. His life didn't seem so hopeless anymore, and the Dean had just made him an offer he simply didn't want to refuse.

From the moment he arrived in Williamstown, the beauty and simplicity of the Berkshires had called out to him. His love of teaching had only been a bonus, and his seminar turned out to be very popular, both on site, and on line, which had likely prompted the Dean to offer him a permanent teaching position. Had the offer come a year ago, he would have accepted without hesitation. He had accomplished everything he needed to accomplish as a criminalist. More even. It was time to hand over the reins to his former students and prepare new, young minds for careers in entomology or forensics.

Given his enthusiasm for the position, and previous conversations with the Dean that had made it clear he wanted to reorient his career, Dean Carlton hadn't understood Gil's hesitation, until he told him that he had someone else to consider in his decision.

"_I see. I assumed you were single, Gil," Bill Carlton said. "Or am I jumping to conclusions again?"_

"_No. Technically, I am single. But there is someone who matters a great deal to me. I can't give you an answer before discussing it with her."_

"_Understandable." Bill rose and absently returned a text book to a long row of shelves behind his desk. "We want you, Gil, so if there's anything we can do to make that happen…" Thinking outloud, he added, "Find her a job on campus, perhaps… "_

_Gil nodded. "She's a criminalist in Las Vegas, but her field of study is theoretical physics. She's a Harvard and Berkeley graduate."_

"_Both good schools," Bill remarked, an understatement if Gil had ever heard one, and he had to suppress a smile. "That does open several possibilities to her if she's interested in relocating to our modest little community."_

"_I'll mention it to her." Gil rose to his feet. "Thank you, Bill. I appreciate the offer and under different circumstances…well, I think you know how tempting it is."_

"_We don't have to advertise the position for a couple of months. You have time to decide."_

But he couldn't put off repairing his relationship with Sara. Gil picked up his pace, his heart suddenly lighter and his head much clearer. Minutes later he stepped into the lobby of the Inn and stomped the snow from his feet on the large square of carpet at the door. The Inn's proprietor came to greet him as she did every day, with a touch of formality underlying genuine warmth.

"Good evening, Dr. Grissom. Will you be taking your meal in our dining room tonight?"

Gil politely returned her smile, and gave her the same response he had given her for fourteen days. "I'll be eating in my room." A mild puzzled look crossed her face—compelling him to add, "Perhaps tomorrow night," an answer she pretended satisfied her despite having received the same one for the past two weeks.

Gil went up to his room and quickly shed his coat and boots. He powered up his computer and sat back, thinking about what he wanted to say to Sara. He hadn't exchanged a single word with her since that dreadful morning when she had closed the door on their relationship—not without a great deal of provocation from him, he reminded himself. But he couldn't let her walk away from him; not that easily. She had asked him not to call, but even if she hadn't, he wouldn't risk her hanging up on him without giving him the chance to express all that was in his heart.

So, he opened his email application and began the most important correspondence of his life.

_Sara,_

_Last Sunday, I walked along the shores of Eph's Pond just north of the campus, enjoying the crispness of a New England winter, the rolling hills of the Berkshires, the gentle fall of snowflakes, the utter silence, marred only by the crunch of snow beneath my boots, so far removed from the ugliness and materialism of Las Vegas. You should see it, Sara, it is breathtaking, and as I looked across the icy pond, I saw a large flock of beautiful birds in the sycamore trees, eating snow from their branches, and the utter beauty and tranquility of this place suddenly beckoned me, inspiring me to dream of making a home here, the way, I suppose, Walden Pond inspired Thoreau._

_It was as though I'd found a place I'd yearned for all my life without knowing it, the kind of perfection we mortals are taught not to seek lest we discover it doesn't really exist. Yet, as I glimpsed it with my eyes and possibilities filled my head, my heart was filled with nothing but overwhelming sadness because you weren't here to share it with me._

_You were right. Love is not about needing to be with that special someone every minute of every day. But it is about needing to share these special moments with her._

_It's only been three weeks since you left, but three weeks away from you has been like three weeks without sleep. My heart never rests and my nights never give me peace. No matter where I am or what I do, I see your face and remember the warmth of your smile, and feel the gentleness of your hand as it smoothes away the grime of our daily life. I finally understand the value of the gift you have given me by loving me with such generosity of heart, without judgment or expectations. At Eph's Pond, I also understood that if perfection did exist, it could never exist without you by my side._

_I love you, Sara. With every beat of my heart, and every ounce of my soul, I love you. __And I miss you so much, it hurts._

_Gil_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Once again, thank you for the wonderful feedback on this story, and happy Thanksgiving to all my American friends and readers. I hope the conclusion makes you feel as good as I felt writing it. Also, thank you to my wonderful friend, Kim for her encouragement, and to Chicklit for Billsville.**

**Eph's Pond**

**PART THREE**

"…Insects are predictable, but other factors can make estimating time of death complicated. For example, if a body is wrapped in a blanket or a sheet, it can decrease the corpse's exposure to insects and impact their maturation."

"So, if you can't rely on insect maturation how would you estimate time of death?" a young woman in the front row asked.

"Good question." Grissom cast a glance around the class. "Any takers?"

"An experiment," Sara said from her back row seat, and then held her breath as Grissom's head snapped up and his eyes found her. Shock, bewilderment, and then a wave of emotion, raw and powerful, swept into his eyes, making her throat constrict. He stood frozen at the front of the class, gaze locked on hers, until a shuffle broke the silence as their curious audience slowly turned to stare at her. Feeling the heat of a flush on her cheeks, Sara looked away, flicking her gaze around the room. She smiled nervously. "You have to, uh, recreate the conditions with another corpse, preferably a pig, because pigs are most like humans." She cleared her throat and continued, "Anyway, that's what you have to do to determine how long it would have taken the bugs to reach the body."

"This is Sara Sidle," Grissom announced, having regained his composure, and with that, most of the class's attention, much to Sara's relief. "She's a seasoned criminalist with first hand knowledge of this very condition. She could give you chapter and verse on watching a pig decompose."

Sara grimaced. "I'll leave the poetry of it to the entomologist."

Quiet laugher broke through the classroom and Grissom smiled, glancing at his watch. "We'll pick this up Monday morning," he said, dismissing them early. "Have a good weekend everybody."

As the students packed up their books and began to leave, Sara slowly made her way to the front of the room, reaching Grissom just as a tall brunette sauntered over to him. "Should I assume you'll be calling me Amy from now on?" A corner of Grissom's mouth twitched and a deep shade of red crept up his features. The young woman pursed her lips teasingly. "Have a good weekend, Doctor Grissom."

There was something oddly familiar about the girl, Sara thought, as she watched her leave. When the door closed behind her, and they were finally alone, she turned to Grissom. "What was that about?"

His eyes fell sheepishly and he shook his head. "Nothing." But then, his gaze lifted and he shrugged. "I may have called her Sara a couple of times."

"Oh." Sara sucked in her lips to abort an involuntary smile.

Grissom's face grew curious. "How long have you been sitting back there?"

"Not long. I came in during your slide show."

"I didn't see you."

"I know."

They both fell silent and time stretched as they faced each other quietly, gazes locked. Sara's breathing became increasingly shallow as she waited for an indication that coming here hadn't been a mistake. And then, without warning, Grissom closed what little distance there was between them and pulled her into his arms, pressing her face firmly to the space between his neck and shoulder. Sara closed her eyes and inhaled the wonderful male scent of him, her heart humming with happiness as he rocked her gently. His letter was neatly folded in her pocket, but even if he hadn't already broken down the barriers to his heart and invited her in, the vice-like grip in which he held her would have left her under no illusion about the strength of his feelings for her.

She snuggled deeper into his warmth and pressed her lips against his skin, feeling his throat working against his emotions. Then she heard a suspicious sniffle close to her ear.

"Gris?"

He turned his face into her hair. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise."

"When I didn't hear from you, I thought—" His voice broke and she felt his chest constrict against her breast.

"Gil…" She started to pull back, but he strengthened his hold on her, keeping her captive in his arms.

"I love you," he whispered.

Sara swallowed painfully. "I know. I love you, too."

He held her a moment longer before drawing back to look at her. His eyes were wet, but they were also lit with happiness. Fondly, he smiled at her. "There's so much I need to tell you, show you."

Sara reached up a hand and with a delicate brush of a finger, flicked a drop of moisture from a corner of his lashes. "Show me your pond, Gris."

* * *

"Are you warm enough?" Grissom asked, taking in her thin jacket.

Sara smiled up at him and nodded. It was a perfect country winter's day, but even if I hadn't been, the joy of him holding her hand as they walked towards Eph's Pond would have made it so.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he said suddenly. "I know it doesn't excuse my behaviour, but I was under a lot of stress. I didn't realize at the time that I was—"

"Burning out?" Grissom looked at her and Sara smiled. "Catherine told me a couple of weeks ago."

He frowned. "I didn't tell her."

"I know. Ecklie did."

"So everybody knows I was losing it."

"No. I don't think she told anyone else. She thought I already knew. I guess our little secret wasn't much of a secret after all."

"Catherine and Brass may suspect. But they wouldn't know for sure." Grissom inhaled deeply. "I should have told you how I was feeling."

"Yes." They walked on, and then Sara looked up at his face. "How are you feeling now?"

He shot her a quick smile. "Much better."

They reached the pond and Grissom stopped. He let go of her hand to drape his arm around her shoulders. Sara stared at the beautiful landscape, the sun reflecting off its icy surface, the trees, their branches weighed down by snow, but mostly, she felt the tranquility. She smiled. "It's exactly how you described it. Beautiful, restful…"

"It's perfect now," he said softly, looking at her, and Sara's heart fluttered. "How do you feel about snow? I mean, living in a place that's covered in it a few months out of every year?"

Sara's breath caught and she disengaged from him, walking away slowly along the shore. She smiled to herself as she pretended interest in an artistically attractive but very dead branch poking through the snow. Dropping to one knee, she kept her back to Grissom as she fashioned a snowball in her gloved hands, and then in a smooth motion, rose to her feet, the snowball hidden behind her as she walked back toward him. Grissom was watching her, waiting, his expression unreadable.

When she was within a few feet of him, she said, "Snow's okay. It can even be fun." And with that, she launched her missile, the snow ball exploding into a cloud of white flakes as it hit the side of his neck.

His eyes widened, and for a moment, he stood rigidly, stunned. But then slowly, a smile broke out on his face and he took a menacing step toward her, bending and scooping snow in his hands as he did so. Sara turned and ran, laughing, looking back as he threw his snowball and missed her by a mile, but then she tripped on the branch she'd pretended interest in earlier, and fell face first in the snow.

Grissom dropped over her, his legs and arms on either side of her body, keeping her captive. Sara rolled over onto her back and looked up into his beautiful, smiling eyes. "Why do you ask?"

He removed a glove and gently brushed the snow from her face and her hair, and as though distracted by the smile on her lips, he quickly kissed her before answering. "I've been offered a permanent teaching position here."

"Are you going to accept?"

"That's entirely up to you."

Sara's heart swelled. It had taken them a very long time to get here, but she knew she was finally home. Throwing her arms up around his neck, she tugged him down on top of her. "I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be."

His gaze darkened passionately and he dipped his head again, capturing her lips with his own. But this time there was nothing quick about his kiss.

And in a small house near Eph's Pond in a town they soon came to call Billsville, as all the locals did, Grissom and Sara lived happily ever after.

THE END


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